


The Combination

by Dizzy_Eyre



Category: Miller's Crossing (1990)
Genre: Bernie being what my grandma would call a real piece of shit, Bruises, Burns, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Intimate Partner Violence, M/M, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 12:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1779319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dizzy_Eyre/pseuds/Dizzy_Eyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bernie cracks it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Combination

Bernie snaps his cigarette case shut. Mink twitches at the noise, then tilts his head to look at it, engraved silver (plate, the old tight-ass), catching the light from the rip in the curtains.

“‘s nice,” he says softly. “Where’d you get it?”

“Some guy.” Ah, memories. “You want it?”

“But – it’s got your name on it. I mean thanks and all it’s real nice of ya but Jesus what if someone noticed, what if Eddie noticed, if anyone would he would, I mean Jesus I might as well –”

“– take a dive out the window or cut your own throat or something yeah, you always were the brains of this outfit.”

Mink sinks back into the pillow. Bernie angles the case between finger and thumb, playing light over the sooty little bruises on the kid’s hips.

“You oughta have something to remember me by. I have to look at all of _his_ leavings.”

“Well that can be fixed,” Mink huffs, stung by this affront to his modesty or something. Jabs his cigarette out in the saucer on the bedside table and starts casting about for his union suit.

Bernie whips an arm round his neck, drags him back down on the bed.

“Get offa me – what’re you _ow_ -”

Then flips him onto his side, straddling him, twisting one wrist up between his shoulder blades. Mink bucks and writhes but Bernie’s got him pinned.

“Like I said,” Bernie murmurs round his Lucky. “Something to remember me by.”

He takes it out of his mouth and exhales gently onto the cherry, making it glow.

“Hold still. I don’t wanna get billed for the sheets.”

“Don’t no don’t please please _don’tBernieplease_ -”

He snorts out a long smoky laugh, lets go of Mink’s wrist and slips off him, smooth.

“I was kidding! Christ, whaddayou think I am?”

Mink drops off the bed and grabs an assorted handful of clothing.

“Aah, don’t be like that. It just gets to me is all. Not having you. Whenever I want. Which is always. C’mere.”

“You bastard –”

He pulls Mink back onto the bed again. Kissing chuckles against his shoulder, his neck, his hair even, playful little nips and licks –

“– lousy son of a bitch, you scared me,” Mink squeaks, but relief and Bernie’s tongue on his ear are starting to make him laugh, sort of.

“How else am I sposed to compete?”

“You ain’t.” His face all hangdog like whenever the subject arises.

“Don’t go, huh? Not yet.” Bernie links their fingers and looks up imploringly over Mink’s knuckles like he’s gonna kiss his hand. “Think I got some rum left somewhere.”

The clothes land between their feet. Bernie parks the cigarette in his boy’s mouth and gets to looking on the dressing table for the hipflask, saying “hope so anyway, Jesus, what a week. I been tear-assing all over, you too I bet. Everyone going dizzy for Thorvald. Know he’s 5 to 1 already?”

Bernie smiles back at the mirror, at Mink behind him curled up and attentive, and thinks, Yeah. A little rough stuff, a little syrup. He’s like the world’s crummiest safe.


End file.
